


Red Wine and Yule Log

by onbeinganangel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baby Harry Potter, Christmas, Established Relationship, First War with Voldemort, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of canon deaths, Mild Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28109685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onbeinganangel/pseuds/onbeinganangel
Summary: Christmas 1980. The war is looming and Sirius is grateful he has friends to spend it with, and that he gets to be there for Harry's first Christmas. It would all be much better if Remus wasn't away on a mission.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	Red Wine and Yule Log

**Author's Note:**

> mari tries to write happy wolfstar. again. mari makes Sirius sad. again.  
> why oh why do i have an allergy to happy wolfstar????  
> anyway. this is soft and definitely has a happy ending, i just... accidentally made Sirius introspective and miserable again at the start.
> 
> thank you to [crazybutgood](https://crazybutgood.tumblr.com) and [whataboutmyfries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whataboutmyfries/works) for beta reading this bad boy and making it readable 💛

It is James’ voice that interrupts the soft buzz of sleepy near-silence. The telly plays softly in the background, the fireplace only lets out a crack every once in a while and the conversation died at least three quarters of an hour ago, partially because the room is warm and they’ve had too much cake and wine, and partially because Harry fell asleep and no one wants to risk waking him up.

“Lils, do you want to grab him? I’m going to the kitchen to get another beer,” James says softly, gently shifting Harry’s head from where the baby was propped against chest over to the crook of his elbow.

Lily looks up from the large sofa where she’s sprawled and shrugs, glancing at Sirius with her big green eyes that he knows always see right through him. “I think Padfoot over there needs Harry cuddles more than I do.”

“Oi!” It’s an empty complaint, and even Sirius himself knows it. He probably needs Harry cuddles more than anyone in the world. 

James rises from the sofa without a word and walks over to where Sirius is curled up, snuggling his misery. “You alright, mate?” He asks, giving Sirius time to sit up and make space for Harry. It’s an honest question, this time. It’s not Lily poking at him. It’s Jamie, the one person in the world that knows Sirius best, looking at him and silently letting him know he’s got his back, no matter what.

“Yeah,” he says after a few seconds, but he doesn’t believe it, and neither do Lily and James. 

Lily and James have been around a lot. They bring Harry and his little soft playpen, pop it on the floor in the middle of Sirius’ living room and just hang out, like they used to fresh out of Hogwarts. Even Peter (who’s, for the most part, disappeared the past handful of months) popped in at some point a few days ago. Marlene and Dorcas had dropped off a tin of gingerbread the day before and stayed for a cup of tea. Alice and Frank had sent multiple owls inviting him over to see Neville and have a drink. McGonagall had Floo called several times to check on him. Even Caradoc and the Prewett twins had gotten in touch. It seemed that most of the Order had gotten time off for Christmas. _Time off from a war._

Sirius’ flat has been full of people on the week leading up to Christmas. It just happens that none of the people in his house have been the person he wants there the most.

If Sirius was to be honest, he would admit that he knew it was more than him being upset that Remus was on a mission over Christmas. He knew that whatever Dumbledore was asking of Moony wasn't fair and was clear exploitation, making the most of having a werewolf in their midst — he had known this from the beginning. _In love and war and all that…_ But it was so much more than that. Everything seemed tense these days. _Off._ Half of the time he wasn’t sure his friends were even coming over because they knew he’d be lost spending Christmas on his own. Maybe it was because they felt it too, deep in their bones, that this may just be their last Christmas.

Harry is small and soft and warm in Sirius’ arms, and Sirius lifts his eyes to meet Lily’s with gratitude. She gives him a small smile because she _knows_. They all know what it is like, sitting in the house waiting for their other half to come back from these missions that just keep getting harder and scarier — wondering if they’re okay, if they’ll be injured and hurt when they get back. If they’ll come back at all.

Lily sits up, her movements slow and sluggish, cuts a small piece of the yule log on the little coffee table and shoves it into her mouth in one go. “This is so fucking good, Sirius. Did you actually make it?”

He nods and smiles a little at her. It had taken him ages, but he’d always been good at Potions, and cooking really isn’t that different when you put your mind to it. 

“Do you want a top up?” She asks, waving the bottle of red wine at him, tilting it towards his glass sitting on the table. “I think I’ll pass, thanks, Evans,” he says.

James comes back with his beer and sits on the armchair across from Sirius, propping his feet up on Remus’ trunk that houses all the books they don’t have space for on the shelves along the wall. There are a few minutes of low, mindless chatter and they go back to silently looking at the telly, dozing off with their bellies full of food and booze. 

Sirius does it too, holding Harry tight, with only an inkling of guilt that he’s allowing himself some peace while Moony is out doing Merlin knows what in the middle of nowhere.

Harry stirs on his lap when the clock strikes midnight, and Sirius takes the chance to be the first one to ever say it. “Merry Christmas, little Fawn.” Harry pays him no mind, simply gargles, looks at him with a confused look in those big bright eyes and passes out again.

“I suppose we should get going,” James says, after a while.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come over, Sirius? We’ve got the room. The cat would love to see you,” Lily adds, and they both laugh. James and Lily’s cat hates him even more than it hates Remus. 

“I’ll be okay, Lils. It’s just a night. I’ll come over for breakfast and to see my favourite godson open his first ever Christmas presents, alright?” He says, feeling like that’s a good compromise. He stands up and snuggles Harry closer against his chest for a little. 

“Alright then, stop hogging my child,” Lily says, as she walks out to the little entrance hall and pulls her coat and hat on. 

“We’re only a Floo call away,” she whispers as she hugs him, standing on her tiptoes to reach her arms around him properly. 

He can feel the tears gathering behind his eyes and swallows around the lump forming in his throat. “Mhmmm,” he replies noncommittally. 

Lily grabs Harry and swaddles him in his small blanket, the one Remus had helped him pick when Harry was born. 

James, in his quintessentially Potter style, doesn’t go out of his way to offer a bed again, or remind Sirius that he’ll be there if he’s needed. He simply says, “I love you, brother” and Sirius knows he’s saying all those other things and more in that one small sentence. 

He sees them out through the front door — which still feels weird even though they’ve been Apparating out of the alleyway behind his place for almost six months, since Harry is too small to use the Floo — with a continuous stream of “Merry Christmas” and “See you in the morning” from the three of them.

And then he’s alone. 

Maybe he’ll finish the wine, that’ll help him sleep. He pours the generous amount still left in the bottle into his glass and takes the empty bottles, glasses and dirty plates and cutlery into the kitchen. He turns the telly off, but stokes the fire and leaves the candles on the tree for a little while longer. He wishes Remus would agree to taking James’ mirror when he goes on missions like this, but he always insists even the mirror is too risky. Responsible, reasonable, rational Remus.

This time last year, Sirius had cried himself to sleep after unadvisedly tearing open the Christmas card from his Mother. He’d expected the usual “you’re a useless piece of shit”. He couldn’t have prepared to find out that Reggie had died through a sodding Christmas card. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have been surprised. That was just like his Mother. Remus had stroked his hair until sleep took over, and Sirius had felt heavy but better once dawn came.

A knock on the door stops his depressive train of thought in its tracks. _Ten Galleons says it’s Lily or James because Harry has left a shoe or a hat or a scarf or a toy behind_ , he thinks, but, just in case, he draws his wand out and steps out of the living room as quietly as he can. 

Best plan of action is to open the door and act like he expects it to be Lily or James, and attack immediately if it’s not one of them. Fuck. He doesn’t need this right now. He holds his wand up high and opens the door in one swift motion with his free hand.

“Did you guys forget yo—” Two soft gasps, simultaneous. “Remus.”

Sirius’ wand clatters on the floor. His boyfriend is standing on the doorstep in tattered clothes. He looks exhausted. He’s dusty, his robes dirty, his hair looks like he’s not washed it in a while and there are remnants of what Sirius thinks is dried blood on his hand. It’s so unlike Remus that Sirius doesn’t know how to react. 

“I may have done something stupidly Sirius-like.”

“You’re home,” he breathes out, struggling to know what else to say. And finally, it clicks. “Shit. Remus. Fuck. You’re home. Are you okay, are you hurt?”

And, as he says it, he grabs Remus and pulls him inside and into the living room, getting him out of the freezing cold.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. Christ, Pads, calm down,” he says as Sirius pushes him down onto the sofa. 

Remus stands up again, almost immediately. “I’m disgusting, I don’t want to touch the sofa.” And of course, that’s what Moony is worried about.

“I’ve done everything Dumbledore asked me for. Well, kind of. The full moon was rough,” he says with a sigh. Sirius knows not to ask, but it hurts like hell, watching the way Remus’ eyes go glassy and empty. “I was meant to stay until the new year, but there was really nothing else I could do. Things were getting a little tense and I don’t want to get involved in pack stuff. Well, and I wanted to come home, too.”

Sirius hates it. He hates Dumbledore, and he hates Voldemort, and he hates this fucking pointless war. It takes him a few seconds to catch up to the last thing Moony said. To understand what it implies.

“Wait. Moony, are you saying you Apparated straight here?”

“Mhmm.”

“From Scotland?”

“Yes.”

“Moony, that’s craz—” he starts, but Remus cuts him off with a soft kiss.

“I know. I know. But it’s Christmas, and I needed to see you.”

“Welcome home,” Sirius says eventually and pulls Remus’ body into his, holding him close, both of them sagging into each other with relief while keeping each other standing.

“Yes,” Remus says, as if he got asked a question. He pulls away from the hug just slightly and turns his head to look at the coffee table. “Think we can drink wine and eat the rest of that chocolate log in the bath?”

Sirius can’t help but laugh.

“Whatever you want, love. You go on up.”

It’s an excuse to let Remus rest, get his bearings, settle himself. But it’s mostly an excuse to get a moment to himself and to breathe out his relief.

Remus kisses him — properly this time — grabbing him by the waist, running a hand through his hair. “And maybe after I wash I can give you an early Christmas present,” he purrs into Sirius’ ear. 

At that, Sirius perks up, of course.

After all, it wouldn’t be Remus coming home after a mission surrounded by other werewolves if he wasn’t randy as hell. Sirius is used to it at this point. Not that he minds. 

“Yeah?” He breathes out.

“Mhmmm. Come on. Bring the cake and wine, we’ll get to that after,” Remus says against his lips. And then, “Merry Christmas, Padfoot.”

“Merry Christmas, Moonbeam. I’m glad you’re home.”


End file.
